


Fate

by Alyssacameron19



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyssacameron19/pseuds/Alyssacameron19
Summary: Coming from a long line of dark magic, Oliver "Ollie" LeBeaux felt as though her fate has already been determined by her name, her parents, and the side of history her family fell on. Pushed towards the darkness, Ollie struggles with the continuous battle of good and evil, a decision made even harder by a newfound power sought by both sides. She must decide what is more important to her, blood or righteousness. Can your fate be changed?
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Original Female Character(s), Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley





	1. Prologue

The train's whistle bellowed. Hot steam gushed from the steel pipe that extended from the conductor's car, and a man leaned from the side to gauge capacity. Indistinguishable chatter filled the open space. My eyes, which had been glued to my brand new dress shoes, were now dashing feverishly back and forth in the frenetic environment. 

The platform was more than busy. It edged on hectic as families pushed past each other. Parents filled the concrete slab, anxiously fixing their children's clothes and tidying their belongings before wishing them a safe departure.

Tidiness wasn't their only concern as some parents' eyes darted back and forth across the platform. Reputation was an unfortunate commodity in the wizarding world. Families had standings to maintain or improve, and they needed to make sure their children reflected them in the best way possible.

Most children my age didn't understand that. Their emotions outweighed sheer logic. Anxiety seemed to eat them alive while others cried, desperately attaching themselves to their parents. Older students watched in a gaze of nostalgia and pity before they turned to load their own belongings onto the train. They looked as though they longed for somewhere else as if mentally, they were already there. I longed for the same. To be away, to be anywhere else. As I looked around, I couldn't help to also long for the love other parents were showering upon their children.

My stare shifted to my mother who was already towering over me with her nose in her notepad. I hoped for a kiss, a single acknowledgment, but it never came. Instead, her quill, moving on its own through the air, hit me in the cheek with its soft feather as it copied her every word. Her black, cat-eyed shades lowered onto her nose as she peered at the vintage train before us. She looked for more things to put in her latest article for the Daily Prophet that could show that she was a better journalist than that no good, embarrassment to the art of journalism Rita Skeeter, as my mother liked to call her.

Mother was tall even without her six-inch Porya designer heels she had customized to the exact shape and arch of her feet. Her blonde hair was tied back with a few loose pieces framing her face. She was young, but that was mostly the anti-aging spell she did religiously every three months doing its job. Despite her regularly voiced dislike for muggles, she enjoyed their fashion and sported a knee-length, off the shoulder, form-fitting plaid dress with red gloves to finish the look. As Orticia LeBeaux, the wizarding world's second-leading journalist and prominent member of the LeBeaux family, she had an image and, like many other parents here, a reputation to uphold.

"The Express is rickety with steam coming from every crevice of the poor excuse for transportation. It looks as though it will break down halfway through the journey with wheels like that," she said with an accent hard to miss.

She was oblivious to the actions of those around us, but I lowered my head in embarrassment as people side-eyed my family. I looked back at my shoes to avoid their gaze while my mother continued to ramble on. The shoes were my father's latest attempt to buy the love he could never earn on his own and to ensure I didn't look of a lower class. Next to the dainty black, kitten heels set his own dragonhide dress shoes that he purchased on a side trip to Romania with his mistress, an affair which my family willingly overlooked.

If people weren't already looking at my mother spitting off constant jabs at the Hogwarts establishment as a whole, they were focused on my father speaking into his wand. A faint blue light formed at the end of his wand, and a voice came from what seemed like thin air.

"No, no that won't work, Mallius. Cornelius will never go for that, and you know that. The ministry of magic is going down the drain as we speak," he said.

Father was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic. If you couldn't tell he was an important person in the wizarding world, he would quickly let you know it. Oliver LeBeaux III was a full-time politician, part-time husband, and a sorry excuse for a father. His job kept him busy, but his uninterest in my mother and his only heir kept him away. His attendance today was more of a publicity stunt than a farewell to his greatest disappointment.

He was taller than my mother, even with her Porya heels, and his entire presence was intimidating. His brown hair was short and sculpted, face clean shaved for the cameras and public. His eyes were green like the money he casually blew across the world with his secretary, Ceri, on business trips. He passed both traits down to me which caused my mother to quickly hand me off to the nursing staff shortly after I was born. She was appalled that if I had the audacity to be a girl, I should have at least had the respect to share her own features. My father, on the other hand, left the hospital after he found out his heir wasn't the boy they planned for.

That's where I was left, between an absent father and a self-absorbed mother. To keep the family name, they decided to give me the same name I would have received if something hung between my legs. Oliver LeBeaux IV was scribbled across my birth certificate, and I was set out into the world to live up to that name.

"First years, all aboard," the conductor yelled from the front of the train.

The call to board brought me back to reality, a reality that held the opportunity for my escape. I reached down and pulled my large trunk to me. It was a leather trunk with my initials O.L. carved into the side. It carried the only material possessions I brought with me. Mother insisted on paying the extra fee to have my other belongings delivered upon my arrival. She refused to let me take my priceless items on a train with thieving imbeciles. So in pure faith, they addressed my belongings to the house they were confident I would reside in based on lineage alone.

The only other thing I could call my own here was a small, screech owl that was perched on her dial in the golden cage at my feet. Nubi laid with her head to the side, asleep and unbothered by the busy world around her. Though they were closed, her eyes were a bright gray with two feathers extending above each brow bone. Her coat was fiery red like the family situated next to my own.

The large group of redheads was chattering loudly to my right. A short, red-headed woman was smothering a young boy with dirt on his nose in kisses as she gripped his face. He tried to pull back from her, but she had a death grip on his chubby, pale cheeks. Two boys, identical in almost every way, stood giggling while a young man slightly older than the rest tapped his foot impatiently.

A shaggy, brown-haired boy with glasses who seemed to be alone watched amused, and then looked down at his feet. He seemed to be my age, eleven, and a first-year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A dainty pair of glasses held together by a thick, triple wrapped piece of tape sat on the bridge of his nose. Despite his long hair hanging over his forehead, I caught a glimpse of something that sent chills down my spine. He wore a scar on his forehead that, even if he tried, he couldn't hide. A lightning bolt-shaped line cut through his forehead, stopping just above his eyebrow and identifying him to the world. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.

I watched as he gave one last glance to the family before quietly maneuvering around them and boarding the train. I picked up Nubi's cage and attempted to drag my trunk behind me in hopes of catching up to the boy. As I moved, a hand gripped my wrist.

"Ollie," my mother said, pulling me back and handing me a small but heavy sack of galleons. She looked around me to the redheaded family dressed in obvious hand me downs and then back to me. "Do keep these close to you, my dear. You know the hands of the less fortunate are quick."

Her words were loud enough for the redheaded mother to break from her son and turn to us. I held a harsh gaze on my own mother. With my lip curled in disgust, I pulled back from her.

"Yes, Mother," I replied, coldly.

She took small steps towards me, hoping to avoid the cracks in the concrete. Smoothing out her dress, she bent over in front of me so we were eye to eye. Her hands combed through the long brown hair she refused to let me cut before she took a hold of my chin. Her long, black nails she had filled every other week poked into my skin.

"Oh my sharp-tongued child, try not to forget who you represent. You do have a legacy to uphold, you know?" she asked rhetorically. She looked around at the families who surrounded us as if to show me who to avoid. With disgust in her tone, she continued, "Do mingle with your own kind for Mommy, dear. You're pure, loyal to our blood. Remember that. Your house brings you honor, so try not to disappoint. I couldn't live knowing my flesh and blood was associated with a house full of half and halves, over even worse, mudbloods!"

I gritted my teeth and held my tongue. This time, I pushed away with more force and pulled my belongings with me. Her nail slightly drugged against my skin, causing a stinging sensation as I turned my back to my family. Father was too consumed in his own conversation that he never noticed my absence, but Mother was sure to call after me, reminding me to write Mallius if I required any additional funding.

I refused to look back as I made my way to the loading car. I kept my head low and moved carefully through the crowd. The weight of the trunk was hard for me to pull on my own, but I was managing. Halfway there, I began to feel a presence behind me. I stopped in my tracks and quickly turned on my heel to be met by the identical redheads.

"You need help with that?" the first one asked.

"Yeah, need help?" the second one repeated.

"Yes please," I replied, looking around to see if I was still in my mother's line of sight before letting go of the trunk almost half my size.

"Wicked. Name's Fred. This here is my brother, George. Third-years."

"Ollie LeBeaux. First-year. Nice to meet you, Fred. George," I nodded to each brother with a smile.

"LeBeaux, huh? Bet that's going to hold weight where we are going," George said, causing Fred to smack the back of his head. George winced and began rubbing his head.

"The less the better."

"Well, Ollie, let's get you ready for the ride of your life," Fred said, referring to the packed Express we were all about to board. "Only kidding. You'll be lucky if you fall asleep halfway."

I laughed and picked up Nubi's cage. Fred stepped towards me and bent down to pick up my trunk. As he moved to grab the handle, a metal walking stick came down almost hitting Fred's hand. A silver snakehead with peering green eyes and sharp fangs ready to strike embellished the top of the stick. It was a sight too familiar to me.

"Miss LeBeaux doesn't need dirt from the likes of you on her trunk," the man said, using his stick to swipe away Fred's hand.

Lucius Malfoy. His platinum blonde hair hung past his shoulders, laying in perfect contrast to his black wool cloak. His grey eyes struck me as if he was trying to communicate something he wouldn't say aloud. Though the words never escaped his mouth, I heard him and was forced by all social circumstances to listen. Turning to a wide-eyed Fred and George, I whispered my apologies before they departed.

The Malfoys were friends of my parents who, like many other pure families, regularly visited the LeBeaux manor for private gatherings. Next to him stood his son, Draco, who was slightly older than me by a full moon. I had become familiar with Draco as his family frequently left him to play with me and Bliss Fitzgerald while our parents discussed grown-up matters. He shared his father's blonde hair but his laid slicked back behind his ears.

"I believe as though it would have been just fine. I'm sure a little dirt is better than all that hair gel," I said.

"You should be grateful Father didn't allow Weasley stench on your trunk," he sneered. His father's stick hit the ground, and Draco's eyes widened.

"Draco, her trunk," Lucius said with his eyes studying me. I squinted my own and glared back at him.

"Yes, Father."

As Draco moved towards me, he extended his hand and grabbed the handle of my trunk. His eyes moved to join his father in studying me. Instead of returning either's gaze, my attention shifted to the red mark on Draco's hand, slightly in the same shape as his father's walking stick mount. He noticed I was looking at the reprimand he had received and pulled himself back with my trunk.

"Malfoy," I said with less venom in my tone and softened eyes.

"LeBeaux," he replied, glancing at the mark that was fading on my own face from Mother's nail.

This wasn't the first time we shared similar markings. At the last gathering, I walked in on Lucius raising a hand towards his son at our manor, an experience that I wish I wasn't familiar with. Draco was cowered down, and a tear fell down his cheek as he looked up at me. I couldn't move. I wouldn't move. Instead, I held my ground in the doorway with cold eyes until Lucius pushed past me to rejoin the party. If looks could kill, my stare alone would have cast the killing spell, but they can't, so he walked away unscathed. Alone, I took Draco's hand and led him into the bathroom. A warm wash rag against the skin always helped for me, and the dampness wiped away his tears. This was a moment that we swore to forget, but I can't help to think about it sometimes. The way our hands touched as he sat on the counter, as I washed away his pain for a second. I could tell he remembered too as he stared at me on the platform.

"Draco, we protect our own. Do your best to ensure Miss LeBeaux is watched over and not subject to the likes of those people," Lucius commanded. "I would hate for her parents to be so disappointed."

"Yes, Father," Draco said before we turned away from his father and boarded the train for Hogwarts.

I stayed quiet for most of the journey. I was left in a car with Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Bliss Fitzgerald, who joined us as soon as she heard we had boarded. She was also a first-year, coming from a prominent Irish banking family who was pure in both blood and money. Bliss leaned on the unusual side, but after two visits to the LeBeaux manor, she became my best friend. Her red hair was lighter than her parents, but her bright blue eyes would leave anyone who looked at her mesmerized.

Though spirits were high, conversation was minimal. Even Bliss, who normally bubbled over with interesting facts and tidbits, was silent. It was as though each of us was stuck in our heads as the train moved on its way to a place where we would have to prove ourselves and maintain our families' wishes alike. A weight was placed on our shoulders that I felt many of our peers could not relate.

As the train came to a halt in the Hogwarts station, the five of us, now dressed in our robes, quietly exited the car. Our feet hit the concrete of a small platform next to the train. Somber darkness had replaced the sun that had vanished from the clear sky, and the station's only illumination came from the two lamp posts outside of the staffing depot.

There was hardly enough time to take in the slightly underwhelming surroundings when a large, burly man walked down the platform towards us. He was a giant, in the literal sense of the word, but he leaned on the short side for his species. The man wore a heavy brown coat that seemed like it had been specially made for him over a red, button-up work shirt and a big belt buckled around his waist. His long shaggy hair seemed to fade into the full beard that hung past his shirt collar. In his right hand, he held a lantern that lit up the entire platform on its own.

"Alright then! First years, this way please," he yelled over the humming of the train. "Come on now. First years, don't be shy. Come on now. Hurry up."

Just before the giant, I spot the red-headed boy whose mother must have kissed him ninety-four times and the shaggy-haired boy with the scar. Harry Potter. I still couldn't believe I was really in his presence after all the stories I overheard from the whispering house-elves. Harry kept a smile on his face, but the boy beside him was just as shocked as the rest of us to see this man Harry was calling Hagrid.

"Alright then. This way to the boats. Follow me," Hagrid said, turning around and leading us down the depot. His body was almost twice as tall as the children who followed him.

Almost two dozen boats with their own lanterns waited for our arrival, gently rocking with the water. Ropes held them to the dock and provided students some support to get in without taking a nose dive into the black lake. Hagrid made his way to the first boat at the end of the dock and the students fell in line. Boats began to fill, leaving me with little options at the back of the line. Seeing an open spot with Draco and the boys, I moved towards them.

"Excuse me," a girl said, slightly pushing me out of the way before I could step into the boat. She was short and sported an ugly shaped bob with bangs to go with it. She stepped into the boat and stood there to look at me. "This boat is full."

My eyebrows furrowed, and I took the time to look the girl up and down with a look of disgust. It took everything in my power to restrain myself and not push the pug-faced prat straight into the lake. Instead, I held my composure and relaxed. Catching Draco's apologizing eyes, a smile formed on my face.

"My apologies. Do try to have a nice ride," I said, twisting my wand between my fingers. "I would hate for something to happen along the way. Knowing these things, they could capsize with a swish, and it would be a terrible thing to show up with wet robes and hypothermia."

I turned away and walked across the dock to the boat Bliss had managed to get into. Beside her sat a slightly overweight, chubby-cheeked boy with slight freckles lining across the bridge of his nose who went on and on about Trevor, his missing toad.

"My grandma is going to kill me," the boy who introduced himself as Neville said. He sat back and comforted himself by tightly wrapping himself in his robe. Neville's worry visibly disappeared as the boat began to row on its own towards the large castle nestled on the hill.

I watched in awe as we moved across the water to the illuminated structure. The world around me seemed dark, but a comforting atmosphere filled me. It was magnificent, unlike anything I've ever seen before. As we got closer, I could see smoke coming from some crevices of the castle. It was colossal compared to the rest of its surroundings.

I began to wonder how my mother could despise a place such as this. The feelings that filled me were sublime. I was really here, the place I dreamed of for years. I was here, and they couldn't touch me. Here I could start over. I could be Ollie, the Ollie that I wanted to be, but I knew I couldn't fully escape. My destiny had seemed to be already written. I knew I couldn't fully stray from their control. Not yet, if ever. Still, the possibility brought a genuine smile to my face.

As we disembarked from the boats, children began to chatter amongst themselves. Bliss followed suit as she caught up with me. Her excitement was overflowing as we made our way into the castle and up several flights of stone staircases. Crabbe, on the other hand, was just hoping to keep his breath as he doubled over half way up. 

Everyone forgot about the grueling climb when we reached an older woman who promptly introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor. She wore a deep green cloak over a black dress with a golden brooch pinned over her sternum. A single feather stuck out from the side of her pointed, large brimmed hat. If anything, she looked like one of the witches in some of those muggle movies that father secretly brought me after his trips.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," McGonagall said, clasping her hands together. "In a few moments you will pass through these doors and join your classmates, but before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses."

To my right, I could physically feel the excitement bubbling from Bliss. She couldn't help but grip my hand to ground herself. I turned to her and let a smile form on my face to match the grin she wore.

"They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," McGonagall continued, causing Bliss to squeeze my hand at the mention of each house. "Now while you're here, your house will be like your family."

This time, I couldn't help but be the one to squeeze Bliss's hand. The thought of a family, a real family, was all that I ever wanted.

As McGonagall continued, Bliss was unable to hold her tongue anymore. "Oh Ollie, isn't this a dream? I can't wait for us to be sorted. What house do you want to be in?"

"I don't think we have much of a choice, Bliss," I replied. My heart sank as my words brought her to a realization and her smile slowly disappeared.

For others, the excitement of the unknown could be overwhelming as they wondered which house they would end up in. For us, our names decided our fate, and if we didn't live up to those who came before us, we would quickly be disowned. Bliss and I knew that for us, the sorting was just a formality before we could join the house our parents had made their own way through years ago.

Slytherin was a badge of honor for most families who attended the private gatherings our parents held. The only reason my mother didn't carry the same honor was that my grandparents figured such a pretty young French lady should attend Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in their homeland. Still, Mother's only pride in Hogwarts was Slytherin. She had met my father, a head boy for the house, during the Triwizard tournament last hosted at Hogwarts. She had said time and time again that it was the only impressive thing that school had to offer, and after so many before my father to be sorted in Slytherin, it was imperative that their heir follows in their footsteps. I knew if anything else came from the mouth of the sorting hat, I could wish what little pride my family had in me goodbye.

"Oh yeah," Bliss said in a whisper. Her hand slipped away from my own, and her eyes which seemed to have lost some of their sparks were back on McGonagall.

"The sorting ceremony will begin shortly," Professor McGonagall said. With that, she turned and disappeared through a set of large golden doors.

The silence didn't last long as children began to mutter once again. Above them all, Draco's voice carried harshly. He stood a few steps below Bliss and me, elbow cocked against the arm rail of the stairs. His minions, Crabbe and Goyle who occasionally come around to the manor, were posted behind him ready for his smart remarks.

"So it's true then, what they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts," Draco said, causing many of our peers to gasp. I already knew where this was going, and someone had to check the pride that tended to outweigh his ability to logically think.

"No shite, Malfoy," I said propping myself up against the staircase rail. "Name one other person with a lightning bolt scar. Please, try."

Harry and the redhead looked over to me with looks of amusement on their faces. Harry kept eye contact with me as he readjusted his glasses on his nose. Draco's gaze followed the boys to me. He squinted and clenched his jaw.

"Shut up, LeBeaux."

"I'm just saying. It was quite the astute observation you made," I replied. This time, Draco ignored me and turned back to Harry. 

"This is Crabbe and Goyle. That's Fitzgerald, and the smart ass is LeBeaux" Draco said, looking towards Crabbe and Goyle and then up to Bliss and me. I nodded proudly at my introduction but Draco moved in front of Harry, blocking me from his sight. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. "

A snicker came from the redheaded boy beside Harry as Draco introduced himself. I couldn't blame him. The way Draco was carrying on was quite pretentious, to say the least, and I myself couldn't help but shake my head.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Draco asked with venom on his tongue. "No need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley."

The Weasley boy's dark brown eyes fell to the ground before quickly looking back up to see if Draco's eyes were still on him. They weren't. Instead, Malfoy's attention was back on Harry who looked at him with repugnance.

"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

A fire began to burn in my chest. Not because he had insulted the family of the only people who had been remotely kind to me. Well, that too, but the one thing I've always hated about my parents and people whose company they kept was the idea that we are superior to other wizards because of our blood and class. What I hated, even more, was that Draco acted as though his brain was not his own and was unable to come up with an opinion apart from what his father fed him. This wasn't Draco. It was the act he kept up for his father's approval. 

I couldn't idly stand by. As Draco held out his hand for Harry to shake, I stepped behind him and pulled him back by the collar of his robe. 

"What the-"

"You'll have to excuse Malfoy. He thinks his name gives him some kind of power, but he's all bark and no bite," I told the Weasley boy. Turning to Harry, I stick out my hand out with a smile, I continued, "Hi, I'm Oliver. Ollie for short."

Harry's nose wrinkled. "Oliver? Isn't that a boy's name?"

"Sure is," I replied cheerfully. I was used to the question and refused to let it bother me anymore. Harry laughed and looked down at my hand. He firmly grasped it and shook.

"I'm sure your father would love to hear all about this, LeBeaux," Draco mouthed off behind me. I quickly spun around my robe swishing. 

"I'm sure he would. Be sure to tell your daddy so he can pass the word along," I replied. "Well, go along." Draco huffed and moved out the way just in time for McGonagall to return.

"We are ready for you now," she said, her eyes following Draco as he returned to Crabbe and Goyle. "Follow me."

The doors behind McGonagall slowly opened inward revealing the Great Hall. Four long tables filled with our classmates were spaced out vertically across the hall. From the wall, metal plates holding fire hung on each side of the hall with floating candles filling the space in between. As we made our way, everyone's eyes looked upwards where a ceiling should be, but instead, all we saw was the night sky. Clouds shifted on as the earth turned, and stars twinkled in the darkness.

"It's not real, the ceiling. It's just bewitched to look like the night sky," a frizzy hair girl said. I turned to her with furrowed brows. What a way to ruin the moment, I thought, but still, she too couldn't take her eyes off of it.

With careful steps, we followed behind McGonagall between the middle two tables towards the front of the hall where one long table stretched horizontally on a raised platform. Professors were seated at this table, watching as we came to a halt in front of a single stool. On the stool sat a worn-out hat that's tip leaned slightly to the left.

"All right. Will you wait along here please?" McGonagall said. She turned her attention to the rest of the students who were already sorted into their houses. "Now, before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words."

My attention shifted past McGonagall to the table behind her. The professors looked stern and proper as their own attention turned to Dumbledore, who now stood in the middle. He was an old man with a gray beard reaching his lower abdomen. A traditional red wizard hat laid upon his gray hair that stretched well down his back. His robes were majestic, regal with black satin lining against a deep red, velvet fabric.

While his presence was alluring, I couldn't help letting my gaze fall on the professor seated at the left end of the table. Severus Snape, a frequent visitor to my family's gatherings as well. Like the Malfoys, his presence was not to be questioned if a meeting was to occur. Today, like most days, he wore all black with shoulder-length hair that turned up at the ends to match. His eyes, which had previously been on Dumbledore, shifted to meet my own. His face was blank, but his stare was intimidating. I quickly looked away but could feel his stare long after Dumbledore began his speech.

"I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce," he began with a low, raspy voice. "The first years please note that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you."

Bliss and I turned to one another at his words and cocked our heads. Dramatic.

"Now when I call your name, you will come forth, I shall place the hat upon you, and you shall be sorted into your houses," McGonagall said, picking up the hat. "Hermione Granger."

The frizzy hair girl with more intellect than social awareness moved towards the stool, talking to herself as she took a seat. McGonagall placed the hat on her head, and facial features began to show in the leather. A voice came from the bottom fold, announcing that Hermione would join those of Gryffindor.

Draco was next and proudly took a seat on the stool. Before the hat could even touch a strand of his hair, he was sorted into Slytherin, an action that would bring nothing but pride to his family. A fate that was already decided, one that we all had to face. However, the Weasley boy beside me didn't help to make mine more palatable.

"There's not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin," he said to Harry.

I tried to hide the fact that my teeth were gritted and my jaw was clenched. I wasn't like them. I didn't want to be bad. I didn't want to be a replica of the LeBeauxs before me, another notch in our dark history, but what choice did I have? It was to accept my lineage or be a greater disappointment, a disappointment that would most likely leave me disowned with nothing left in this world.

The process continued, and the ones of us left waited patiently for our names to be called. Soon McGonagall called for Bliss, who had regained some of her excitement between the outside corridor and the stool.

"Hmm unique, clever, creative. It must be Ravenclaw!" exclaimed the hat.

What should have been a moment of excitement and cheer for Bliss turned into a complete nightmare. All the color that normally filled her rosy cheeks had drained. Tears sprung to her eyes in realization. Quietly, she stood from the stool and moved towards the cheering Ravenclaw table. I stopped her before she got past the remaining first years and assured her that no matter what, she had me. A fake smile appeared on her face, but it was obvious when she sat down that her hope was gone. I couldn't breathe, for Bliss or for myself.

As the names dwindled down, I feared for my own sorting. The Weasley boy, whom I learned was named Ron, was quickly sorted into Gryffindor, joining what looked like most of his brothers. He was quickly joined by Harry after a back and forth with the hat about which house he should be sorted, Slytherin or Gryffindor, leaving me as one of the handfuls left to be sorted. Finally, it was my time.

"Oliver LeBeaux," McGonagall read from her parchment.

I stepped forward, pushing through what was left of the crowd. As I reached the stool, McGonagall looked over her paper and squinted.

"Oh dear, I said Oliver."

"I prefer Ollie, ma'am."

Taken aback, McGonagall nodded and placed the hat on my head. "Well, Ollie it is then."

I sent her a tight-lipped yet warm smile and closed my eyes. This was the moment. Life or death it seemed in the instance. 

"Hmm, a LeBeaux. I've sorted many of you over the years, but there's something different here. Loyal. Brave. Sight. A desire to stand apart," the hat said upon my head. I could feel my heart racing in my chest. Even though they were closed, I could feel tears swelling in my eyes.

"Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin" I whispered.

"Slytherin you say? A blood fit, yes, and a practical choice but-"

"Slytherin," I continued to whisper over the hat. "Please. I'll be a disgrace."

"Well then, I believe I will have to place you in Gryf-," the hat stopped but quickly continued, "Slytherin." A sigh of relief passed through my lips as I opened my eyes to a cheering Slytherin table.

"Thank you. Thank you," I whispered before heading to join Draco at one of the empty placeholders left for freshly sorted first-years at the front of the table. As I passed Ravenclaw, I tried to catch Bliss's attention, but her head was hung low, staring at the empty plate in front of her.

As I sat down beside Draco, he pulled my hand into his own and nodded at me to reassure me that I was in the right place. I looked up at him and returned his nod, knowing this was my only choice. I had to look after him anyway. He needed me. Bliss was strong. She could make it, with or without the support of her parents. Draco? He would crumble.

As Draco turned away to watch the rest of our peers be sorted, I felt a strong gaze of someone on me. From the front of the hall, Snape looked down at me. It was as if his eyes peered into my soul, but he kept that same blank expression. This time, I returned his stare, determined to hold my own against his intimidation. As we locked, he gave a simple nod and looked away.


	2. Stranded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting kicked out, Ollie meets a familiar friend on the Knight's Bus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Be sure to let me know if you like it in the comments! Check out this fan fiction's promo video on Youtube!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPXjliMV3F8

“Out! I want you out this instance,” Mother cried.

A flick of her ebony wand brought all my belongings sliding down to the foot of the black, spiral staircase. Clothes shot out of the side of my trunk as it hit the marble floor. Nubi screeched from her cage that tried to stabilize itself to keep upright. 

“Where am I supposed to go?” I yelled back, bending down in front of my belongings. I gathered my clothes and stuffed them back into the half-open trunk. “It’s almost dark.”

“Well you should have taken the consequences of such stupidity into consideration when you helped that mudblood,” she replied. “Ahh a mudblood, Ollie. I can’t even stand the thought.”  
“Don’t call her that,” I said coldly in Hermione’s defense. “Don’t ever call her that. She’s my friend.” 

“I don’t care if she’s the Queen of England,” Mother said, swishing her wand to open the front door. It swung hard and bounced off the wall. “No daughter of mine will go against the Dark Lord for the sake of a mudblood and a couple of blood traitors. I won’t tolerate it. Now go. Get out of my house.” 

“Gladly,” I replied, walking towards the door. The trunk, Nubi’s cage, and the multiple bags that hung from my shoulder weighed me down, but I still managed to knock Mother’s shoulder with my own as I walked past. She stumbled in her heels but caught herself.

“Ollie, dear,” she said as I made my way out the door. I turned back to face her. “If you insist on going back to that school and watering down our name, King’s Station is that way.” 

My eyes followed her outstretched, manicured finger to the East. With that, the door slammed in my face, and I was left to fend for my own, surrounded by nothing but woods. 

I made my way down the cobblestone driveway, dragging my trunk behind me until I reached the road just outside the steel gate. I thought about taking a seat on the cool concrete, but I knew I had no time to waste. The sun was going down quickly behind the trees, and a cold breeze was starting to pick up. With everything I owned, I began to walk into the darkness.  
Two years had passed since I had first left for Hogwarts, two years since I begged to be sorted into the house that I thought would make my parents love me. Little did I know that that wasn’t enough. A house doesn’t determine the character a person has within, and mine never matched what my parents had hoped. Instead, I was a laughing stock to my name, the black sheep of generations, and Mother was quick to remind me.

She had heard the news of my latest act of defiance as soon as they touched back down in London from their three-month stay in the States, and she was haste to bring up my malfeasances as soon as she walked in the door. A LeBeaux who fought against the Dark Lord and worked to unpetrify mudbloods was not a true LeBeaux, according to Mother. I had a duty to fulfill and a name to live up to, and if I couldn’t do that, I must leave. 

So there I was alone, walking along the side of the road. The sun had dripped past the trees, and the moon was bright overhead. The glow from the tip of my wand provided the only source of light available. The breeze coming through the trees was chilling, shaking the leaves and my bones. The world around me was silent. That was until a loud horn sounded in the distance.  
I jumped to the side as a half translucent bus pulled up beside me. As the tires screeched to a halt, the full bus came into view, a blue double-decker with blinding headlights. I held my wand steady in front of me as a man with splotches of acne appeared from the back. 

“Who are you?” I asked, wand ready. No response came from the man. His head was down, reading over a torn piece of paper. 

He was dressed in a dark blue uniform and a hat that sat lopsided on his head. Multiple bags and ticketing dispensers hung across his chest. With one hand, he held tightly to the metal pole shooting down from the top of the bus, and in his other, he held a piece of paper, a script. He quietly mouthed the words to himself before reading them out loud. 

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor for this evening,” he said in an almost robotic rhythm. As he finished, he looked up from the paper with a forced smile that quickly faded away at the sight my wand pointed in his direction. “Woah, watch where you’re pointing that thing. You could take someone’s eye out.”

“Sorry,” I whispered, tucking my wand away in my jacket pocket. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Stan asked, tapping his foot against the bus’s floor. “It’s not like we got all night to piddle around. All aboard.” 

“Right, right,” I said, picking up my trunk. 

“Along with you. I’ll get the luggage, Miss,” he said, pausing for me to fill in the blank. 

“LeBeaux.” 

Shocked, he looked me up down with wide eyes before realizing what he was doing. Shaking himself out of it, he nodded. “Why yes, I’ll get the luggage, Miss LeBeaux.” 

“Thank you,” I replied, stepping onto the bus. 

It took Stan a minute to get all my belongings into the bus, huffing and puffing along the way. A visible sweat broke from his forehead as he carried the trunk into the bus and over to a bed. 

“Did ya bring the whole house with you?” he asked, slightly out of breath. “Good God, what’s in this thing? Bricks?”

“Heavy isn’t it,” I replied with a laugh. I took a seat on the bed, a few over from the snoring wizard we passed coming in. “Now imagine dragging that all this way.” 

“Bloody mad,” he said, grabbing the dispenser that hung across his body. The dispenser clicked and a bell rang as a ticket shot into his hand. He handed me the paper slip and eyed me down. “Where we ‘eaded Miss LeBeaux?” 

I tried to rack my brain of where I could go. Bliss was in France, taken out of Hogwarts and forced into Beauxbatons after the sorting. So the Fitzgerald manor was out, and I believe I would have much rather died than arrive at the Malfoy Manor. So the only logical place slipped from my lips. 

“London,” I said. “We’re going to London.”

“Alright then, London it is,” Stan said, turning his body towards the front of the bus. “Ern, we’re going to London.” 

“Ahh London,” a voice said. I followed the voice back to a shrunken head that hung from a beaded necklace wrapped around the rearview mirror. “Hear that, Ernie. London.”

An older man sitting in the driver seat nodded and pulled a lever, sending us shooting down the road. My heart seemed to leap out of my chest as I was pushed forward. I grabbed the metal bar of the bed and held on as we went further into the darkness. 

I was sitting in the bed reading over last year’s Potion’s textbook, a subject that I had increasingly found interest in, when Stan came over to the bed. We had been riding for nearly an hour and a half, and thankfully, we were finally out of Wiltshire. 

“We have one more stop before we get to London if ya don’t mind. A wizard’s stranded somewhere near Surrey, the poor thing,” Stan said, shaking his head. 

“As if I have somewhere to be,” I said, looking up to him with a half-smile. 

“To Surrey it is then,” he said before disappearing back upstairs. 

The ride to Surrey was short. I was under the impression we were a while away, but soon, the bus came to a jolting stop. I kept my nose in my book to mind my own business as Stan passed to welcome the newcomer. 

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard,” Stan read again. “What are you doing down there?”

I raised my eyebrow in confusion and looked over my book in his direction. An even greater curiosity fell over me as the stranded wizard replied. 

“I fell over,” the wizard said in a familiar voice that I couldn’t seem to place. 

I closed my book and placed it on the bed beside me, swinging my legs under me and turning around. I moved the curtain from the foggy bus window and peeked out to see a young man. His back was turned slightly so I couldn’t see his face, but I couldn’t help but notice the initials on his trunk reading H.P. 

“Harry,” I whispered, rushing out of the bed towards the entrance. I pushed past Stan to get a better look. “Harry!” 

“Aye watch it,” Stan said, brushing off his coat. 

“Sorry,” I said quietly, dusting off his coat before turning back to Harry. 

He was wearing a gray t-shirt layered with a plaid flannel and an athletic jacket. His hair had grown since I last saw him two months ago. It was still shaggy, but thankfully, it had lost some of its bowl shape. 

“Ollie,” Harry said, stunned. “What are you doing here?” 

“They finally kicked me out,” I said with a laugh. 

Harry looked at me concerned before laughing with me. “Took them longer than we thought, huh? Last year must have really done it for them.” 

“More than you know,” I said. “But it looks like you’re in the same boat.”

“That’s usually what happens when you turn your uncle’s sister into a helium balloon,” he replied with a laugh. 

“Oh no, Harry. You didn’t,” I laughed. For the moment, we stood there smiling at one another, a moment that was ruined as Stan bent over and placed his face next to mine. 

“Not to break up this reunion, but we can’t wait for the grass to grow. We got places to be,” Stan said, tapping on his wristwatch. “In, come on. Get in.”

Harry nodded and climbed into the bus with me. He ran a hand through his hair and walked past me, taking in everything the bus had to offer which wasn’t much. I followed behind him, taking a seat on my bed as he explored. After Stan gave him his ticket, Harry took a seat at the foot of the bed. 

“Take it away, Ern,” Stan said, tapping the window. 

The bus jolted forward, and Harry fell back on the bed. His eyes widened as he gripped the metal pole at the end of the bed to keep upright. I laughed and pulled my feet up onto the bed as it slid to the back of the bus. 

“It takes a minute,” I said, “but you’ll get used to it.” 

“Used to it?” Harry asked, holding on for dear life. “I doubt that, Ollie.”

I laughed and looked over to Stan, who was studying Harry and the scar on his forehead. I could feel him staring at us, and I couldn’t ignore the protective feeling that came over me as I watched the man bite his nails. 

“What’d you say ya name was?” he asked, pointing down to Harry with furrowed eyebrows. His head was cocked to the side, revealing more red splotches of acne on his neck. 

“I didn’t,” Harry replied, looking over to me. He gave me a look of uneasiness. 

“Well, no name. Whereabouts are we ‘eaded?” 

“The Leaky Cauldron,” Harry replied with no thought. 

“Well, just your luck then. Miss LeBeaux was heading to London herself,” Stan said, chewing on the skin next to his fingernail. He turned his head slightly and spit out what he had pulled off, causing me to silently gag. “To the Leaky Cauldron, Ern.”

“The Leaky Cauldron,” the shrunken head said from the front of the bus with a laugh. “Hey, if they have the pea soup, make sure you eat it before it eats you.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I said with a laugh looking over to Harry. He looked as though he might be sick. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just a lot on my mind,” he replied. 

I nodded and left him to his thoughts. I know Harry, and I know he’d rather be left alone than talk it out. We were similar in that aspect at least. So I left him alone, picking up my book and rereading the chapter about antidote potions. 

The silence hardly lasted as the shrunken head began to scream from the front of the bus, warning Ernie about an old muggle lady crossing the street. I dropped my book, and Harry grabbed the pole with both hands as we prepared to be witnesses to involuntary manslaughter. Somehow though Ernie pulled the lever, this time in reverse and the bus came to a sudden halt. It would have been a glorious victory for all, except the sudden stop sent Harry flying towards the glass barrier and caused me to tumble out of bed. 

I laid on the ground with my arm propped up while Harry watched the old lady cross. From the front, the head counted down from ten. I gripped the metal frame at the head of the bed and waited. As he reached one, Ernie pushed the lever forward, shooting us back into the street. Harry fell back on the bed, and I slid with it on the floor as it rolled towards the back of the bus again.  
As I stabilized myself and took a seat on the bed, Harry watched Stan open an edition of the Daily Prophet. On the front page, a man’s mugshot moved as he laughed. His dark hair fell greasily past his ears, and his beard was ungroomed. He held a plaque in his hands with a combination of symbols and numbers. If the picture itself wasn’t chilling enough, the words above it would do the job. Escaped from Azkaban was written in large letters across the header of the paper. 

“Who’s that?” Harry asked. “That man.”

Stan sighed at the question and closed the newspaper. He turned it over and examined the picture for himself. 

“Who is that?” he repeated, turning the newspaper over for us to see. “Who is... ? That is Sirius Black, that is. Don’t tell me the both of you’ve never been ‘earing of Sirius Black.” 

I looked to Harry and back to Stan, shaking my head. Father was the head of the Ministry’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but he never spoke about his work and especially Azkaban. Too many of his friends now resided there for his liking, but he kept that to himself so I was just as clueless as Harry. 

“He’s a murderer,” Stan continued, leaning down towards us. Got ‘imself locked up in Azkaban for it.” 

“Well, how did he escape?” Harry asked. I bit my tongue at the stupid question and waited on Stan’s response. Harry tended to show why he was in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw quite often. 

“Get a load of this one. Not too bright, aye,” Stan said to me with a laugh before turning to Harry. “Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? He’s the first one who’s done it! He was a big supporter of… You-Know-Who. Reckon you’ve heard of him?” 

Harry nodded and pulled away. “Yeah. Him I’ve heard of.” 

I pressed my lips tightly together and put a hand on Harry’s thigh. He gave me a side smile before standing up to look out the window. I watched him, worried that all of this might be getting to him now. 

We rode like that for a while. Harry watched the cars pass by, and I read, casually checking on him now and then. I thought it was going to be smooth sailing for the rest of the way, but I turned out to be quite wrong. 

As we made our way into London, the bus flew down the wrong side of the road. It passed cars and buses, zipping in and out to avoid a collision, but collision seemed almost certain as we headed for two double-decker buses that left less than a yard of room between each other. 

“Ernie, double-deckers at twelve o’clock. They’re getting closer Ernie,” the head said, turning feverishly back and forth from the road to the driver. The bus flew forward, but it didn’t swerve. “Ernie. They’re right on top of us!”

Ernie, in response, casually slamming the breaks and pulling the lever back. I braced myself for another jolt forward or even the collision which would undoubtedly put us all in the hospital, but it never came. Instead, time seemed to slow down as Ernie pulled another lever from the top of the bus. 

“Mind your head,” the shrunken head said as the walls of the bus began to move inwards. I watched with wide eyes as my entire body compressed into a 2D figure. My lungs struggled to contain the little oxygen that wasn’t pushed out during the transformation. 

“What the actual fu-,” I began as the bus squeezed between the double-deckers on each side of us. Before I could finish my sentence, the bus escaped from the tight squeeze and returned to normal. I doubled over and put my head between my knees, holding my chest, and trying to catch my breath. “Jesus.” 

Harry held the pole for stability as he returned to normal. That stability didn’t last for long as Ernie slammed the breaks again, pulling the lever for the last time and tapping the back of a parked car outside the Leaky Cauldron. Harry slammed back into the glass barrier, sliding down into the floor. He groaned as he stood back up, rubbing his face and taking off his glasses to make sure they were still in one piece. 

“The Leaky Cauldron,” Stan said, presenting the dark building to us as the hit car’s alarm sounded outside. 

It was a bleak sight. Unfamiliar, as I had never been in anything less than a five-star hotel, but this would work for the night. At this point, anywhere was better than home and that bus. As I gathered my belongings, a man walked onto the bus from the dark building. He was bald with pointy ears and a hunched back.

“Ahh, Mister Potter finally. We’ve been waiting for you. At last, you’re here. And Lady LeBeaux, what a surprise. Do come follow me,” he said. I looked at Harry with a skeptical expression. He shrugged and began walking towards the man. With my belongings in hand, I followed behind him. 

The inside of the Leaky Cauldron was almost as bleak as the exterior. Grunge looking wizards sat alone around in the dim-lit room, but all eyes fell on us as we entered. The only other witch in the entire establishment was a curvy, redhead waitress who was refilling cups of Hootch. 

The hunched back man led us across the tavern to a set of squeaking stairs that groaned with every shift of weight. He sat our belongings that he had insisted to carry down by the fireplace.

“Room 11 for Potter and 12 for Lady LeBeaux,” he said to a bellhop who simply nodded in return. The man turned back to us and gestured for us to continue up the stairs. So we did until we reached the highest floor available where we waited on the man to join us. With an outstretched arm, he motioned for us to go into a room that’s door stood wide open. Harry hesitated but when he looked in the room his attitude changed.

“Hedwig,” he said, pacing towards the owl. A smile appeared on my face at the reunion, but hoping not to disturb, I kept my distance, leaning on the door frame. 

“Smart bird, ya got. Got here just minutes before the two of ya,” the man said to Harry with an eerie smile. In the distance, a man purposefully clears his throat. I look from around the door frame to see the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, staring out of the window.

“As the Minister of Magic, it is my duty to inform you, Mr. Potter, that earlier this evening your uncle’s sister was located a little south of Sheffield, circling a chimney stack,” the Minister said. 

The man with the hunched back lead Harry towards a small table filled with bread and treats, pushing him into one of the leather chairs next to the fireplace. He desperately offers Harry bread, breaking it in his hands and pushing it towards him. Harry holds his hand up and shakes his head. I, on the other hand, try to keep out of the direct line of sight. 

“The Accidental Magic Reversal Department was dispatched immediately. She has been properly punctured and her memory modified,” the Minister continued. 

Hoping to get far away from this awkward encounter, I tried to back out of the room, but it was no use. The Minister turned on his heel and met my gaze with a smile. 

“Do stay, Miss LeBeaux,” he said. “I’m sure your parents would want me to watch over you during your stay. Oh take a seat, take a seat.”

“Oh I’m sure they would,” I said. I walked into the room slowly and slid into one of the leather chairs near his desk. “But I wouldn’t want to intrude on your conversation. It seems like quite a serious one to me, but if I may respectfully, and I’m not sure if I can, Harry didn’t mean to blow his aunt up like a balloon, Minster. I’m sure of it so it would be quite terrible to expel him.”

“Expel?” the Minister asked, coming over to us with a smile. “No harm was done. You know the Ministry doesn’t send people to Azkaban over such a little mistake. Your father must have told you what kinds of things get you sent there, Ollie.”

I faked a smile and nodded in response. Father never spoke to me about such things, but I could surely infer the things that would land a wizard in Azkaban. Terrible things, things I’m sure my family has done plenty of in their time, but being a prominent family in the wizarding world, it seemed, sometimes, they were above the law since they were the ones making it.

“So I’m not in trouble?” Harry asked, leaning forward in the chair and looking up to the Minister. 

“No boy,” the Minister said, opening a pot full of pea soup. He stirred the soup with a silver ladle and offered us a scoop. Remembering what the shrunken head from the bus said, I shook my head and scooted back into my chair. The minister shrugged and put the lid on before turning back to Harry. “But running away as you did, given the state of things, was very, very irresponsible. That goes for both of you.”

The minister moved behind Harry’s chair, gripping the leather as he looked down on us. I clenched my jaw slightly as if I had had a choice in the matter. 

“The state of things?” Harry asked. 

“We have a killer on the loose,” the Minister cried. I raised my eyebrow in suspicion. 

“A killer?” I asked. 

“You mean Sirius Black?” Harry asked, pausing. “What’s he got to do with us?”

“Oh, nothing, children, nothing. You’re safe,” the Minister said. “Tomorrow the two of you will be off to Hogwarts, and things will return to normal.” 

I nodded my head and stood from the chair. There was something he wasn’t telling us, and I was going to make it my business to find out just what it was. So I thanked the Minister for his kindness and headed for the door. Harry followed suit with his new textbooks, gifted to him from the Ministry, in hand and Hedwig perched on his forearm. 

“Tom will show you to your rooms, children,” the Minister said. He now sat at his desk, scribbling words across an old piece of parchment. “And while you’re here, it would be best for the two of you not to….wander.” 

My eyebrows furrowed once again, and I went to respond. Before the words could escape my lips, Tom hastily pushed us out of the room and into the open corridor. He took the lead this time, walking us down two flights of stairs before showing us to our rooms. In his hands, he held two golden keys that he passed to each of us. 

“Thank you,” I said, looking down to the ancient key in my hand. It looked as though it was the sole key to a hidden treasure buried far, far away, but instead, it’s only use was to turn the rusty doorknob of my room. 

When I got into the surprisingly nice room behind the door, I moved back outside the doorway. Harry was still standing there, watching me as I came back to his line of sight. Even though he tried to hide it, I could see that he was slightly lost in his thoughts, racking his brain for answers that seemed to be nowhere to be found. 

“That was strange,” I said, leaning on the frame of the doorway. 

“Bizzare is more like it,” he said, with a growing smile. He put his hands in his pocket and leaned against his door. “Do you think we are actually safe?” 

My smile faded, and I knew worry was beginning to consume him. Harry didn’t know how to casually think something over. He fixated, and now, I had to try to ease those thoughts even if I didn’t truly believe the things I said myself. If it helped ease his mind, it would do for now. 

“Harry, the Minister said we were safe. So we are safe,” I said. “I truly find it hard to believe that the first thing on Sirius Black’s mind after escaping Azkaban, of all places, is two, homeless teenagers. We have no ties to him, Harry. So try to get some sleep.” 

“Yeah, you’re right, Ollie,” he said. The smile that had faded began to return. “Just two, homeless kids.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” I said softly, pulling my jacket closer to me. “If you need me, I’m right here, okay?” 

“Okay,” he replied. “Goodnight Ollie.”


End file.
